


Nightmares

by Koevch



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:59:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koevch/pseuds/Koevch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He feels violated all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

"I have a  _special_ surprise for you, Mr. Chekov. Only the best for friends of Kirk." Khan holds his arms behind his back. "You see... the Ceti eel must have a nest." 

"No, no, no,  _please,_ **no** _\--!"_ He struggles against the strong hands clamped on his wrists and pushes back against his captor's hard body, quickly losing ground thanks to the lack of traction on the sand beneath his feet. The gaping mouth of the pit in front of him is only a few feet away now, only a few feet away, he's only a few feet away from  _death--_ Pavel thrashes again and twists his arms as hard as he can, resulting only in a sharp pain shooting through his wrist.

Standing on the other side of the trench, Khan only shakes his head and laughs. "Where do you think you'll go if you escape?" He gestures to the vast stretch of desert. "A genetically inferior being such as yourself can only live  _maybe_ three days before dying of dehydration. Don't you think that it would be better to  _live?_ "

"No, no,  _please!_ No!" The brute behind him pushes him to the edge of the pit. His heart pounds as he peers down into the single, writhing brown mass within it, a quicksand made of thousands of squirming armored bodies. He thrashes harder, like an animal stuck in a trap, and his captor gives him a hard shove. For a split second there is no ground beneath his feet, and then he is surrounded by them, and the larvae are crawling up his shoulders, slithering along the side of his neck--

.

He opens his eyes to greet blackness and realizes that he is crying a moment later. Pavel can hear his own pulse and his rapid, shaky inhalations as he tries to catch his breath, hands trembling. It was the type of dream that leaves one profoundly disturbed afterward, and he feels like he's going to be sick. A shiver rolls over his body and he tugs the blanket up to his chin, hugging a pillow close to his chest. It was just a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

It didn't _feel_ like a nightmare. He's never had dreams as vivid as these. Khan is continuing to torment him beyond the grave, sometimes with the night terrors, other times, in the moments when he's alone and left with a sudden, acute awareness of all of the people that have vanished from his life. He's already racked every memory he has, searching for some reason that would explain why he deserves this, but he's found nothing, only a grayish, foggy sense of misdirection even worse than the one he had before.

Sulu stirs beside him and his heart stops. The mattress shifts as his friend sits up, moving the blankets with him.  _You woke him up with your crying. He is going out tomorrow and he needed rest._

“Pavel?” His voice is soft and husky with the vestiges of sleep. Initially Chekov is quiet, hoping to convince him that he isn't awake, but Sulu remains sitting up. He feels like a child.

“Da?”

“Are you okay?”

The pause before he answers gives him away. “I em okay.” 

The lamp on the bedside table flickers on and casts dim light onto the bed. Sulu sits with his back against the headboard and watches him quietly, with concern. Chekov's stomach curls into a cold ball and sinks, weighted by shame. He stares at the wall closest to him, but he knows that Hikaru already knows that he's crying.

“Really?”

He is quiet for a long while, as if he can simply do that forever and keep time from moving forward. He eventually gives in under the combined discomfort of being watched and the silent expectation of an answer, but his voice is barely audible. “No.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

He shrugs. There's quiet between them for a few moments before Pavel finally speaks up again.

“You should go beck to sleep.”

“I couldn't do that. Not when you're upset.”

Chekov shakes his head. “Do not stay up vis me. I em an adult.”

“And I'm not? I'm choosing to stay awake.”

"Sulu. Go to sleep. _I do not vant you to stay up vis me_." There's a harsh, unfamiliar edge to his tone that he regrets the moment the words have left his mouth. He doesn't know why he did that. He hurts more now; he's  _lonely._

“If that is what you would like, Pavel,” he says gently.

“It is.” He curses his own obstinance.

Sulu reaches for the switch next to the bed and darkness engulfs them again. He's true to his word, at least, lowering himself back down and pulling the covers over his shoulders as Pavel remains sitting up. Chekov draws his knees closer to his body and stares into the darkness as the hollow feeling deep inside of him infensifies. So many people have been torn away from him that it feels as if he can count those that remain on two hands. He probably can.

As the loneliness becomes more and more acute, he regrets his previous actions, but Sulu is probably asleep by now, and Pavel refuses to wake him a second time. Touch would be nice in this moment, something to anchor him in reality and reel him in after being a million miles away from everyone... Chekov exhales quietly and glances in Sulu's direction.

_I can take care of myself._

It seems like forever passes before the mattress moves and the presence beside him is gone. He can hear the faint sound of Sulu's footsteps as he walks to the bathroom, and once he's on his way back, he speaks up. "Sulu."

"Yes?" Hikaru climbs onto the bed and sits beside him.

"Vould you stay up vis me--for a short vhile--"

"Of course, Pavel."

He's quiet for a long while, comforted simply by his presence. Besides, every time that he opens his mouth to speak, the words catch in his throat. Finally, Chekov's chest rises with a deep breath and he lets it out in a sigh before speaking up. “...I hed a nightmare. It vas about the same sing it alvays is.”

Sulu makes a sympathetic sound. “It's not unusual to have dreams like that.”

That isn't much of a comfort. Pavel stares at his hands, quieted. “He hurt me.” He feels violated all over again, as if he has no control over his own body... The feeling is filthiness, worthlessness, nauseating disgust.

“He can't ever hurt you again. You're safe now.”

“Ze damage hes been done.”

“It won't always be this way. You're still recovering, and it's only been two months.” Sulu reaches out and breaks through the invisible barrier between them to gently squeeze his shoulder, then briefly rubs his upper back with careful, soothing motions. “I'm going to replicate some tea.” He turns on the light and Pavel watches him climb out of the bed and walk to the kitchen in his socks and pajamas. Half of him wants to just go back to sleep, or pretend that he's asleep again. The other half doesn't want to be left alone with these thoughts, and that's the one that prevails.

Hikaru returns with two steaming porcelain teacups on saucers and holds the darker brew out to Pavel, who quietly takes it and sets it on the bedside table. He's placed three tea biscuits on the saucer, too, the kind that Pavel likes to dip in his cup sometimes, with the small scalloped edges and the word  _чай_  pressed into the middle with delicate letters. A warm beverage holds some appeal at the moment; it's comforting, familiar. 

He lifts the black tea to his mouth and sips carefully, trying to get an indication of how hot it is without burning his tongue. It's hot, but not painfully so, and when he swallows, warmth travels through his chest and settles in his belly. The aroma of the vapors rising from his cup is rich and bitter and powerful, warming his skin where it makes contact, but he knows that if it wasn't drowned out he would be able to smell the touch of mint in the brew that fills Sulu's cup.

 Sulu takes a deep breath of steam and smiles. "I've always had an appreciation for good tea."

"Mm."

"...This won't last forever. I know that you'll recover."

Chekov suppresses the  _I don't_ that rises to the tip of his tongue and watches the fragile edge of the teacup. 

"You're resilient."

"You compliment me." He hesitates, then adds, "Sank you. For zis." Sulu hasn't left his side for a single night, but he knows what the past few months would have been like without him. The cold isolation forever lurks outside of the windows, pushing against their panes at night with the Pacific breeze, watching, waiting hungrily as he sleeps. 

Hikaru turns his head to look at him. "Of course. I know that you'd do the same thing for me." He smiles faintly.

"You are right. I vould." _Of course I would. Even if I had to live with you for the rest of my life... y_ _ou are the best friend I have ever had._

He feels  _safe_ around Sulu, and at this time, there is nothing more valuable than that which his companion has given him--security and affection.

Somewhere, Maslow smiles.


End file.
